


The Best Little Cathouse in Kirkwall

by gwyllgi



Series: Ser Purrceval [2]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Cats, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-27
Updated: 2011-05-27
Packaged: 2017-10-19 20:18:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwyllgi/pseuds/gwyllgi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris isn't quite sure when things went pear-shaped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Little Cathouse in Kirkwall

Hawke had departed hours earlier, leaving behind a selection of new books and a sheaf of parchment, along with a new quill and ink. "You're getting better, but you need more practice than a few hours a week," he'd said. "Work through these and we'll see how you're doing next time."

So it was that Fenris found himself tucked in at the long table in the room he'd claimed for himself, poring over the book laid open before him. His writing, the straggling letters that frustrated him even more than his stuttering as he read aloud, had long since been laid aside after Ser Purrceval (he'd long since given up trying to get the cat to answer to anything else) had decided that the moving quill was the best toy since his own tail, worsening Fenris's penmanship into illegibility. Now, the cat draped over his lap, his rusty purr vibrating against Fenris's thighs as Fenris absently stroked his exposed belly.

He didn't know how long he'd been reading when he heard the creak of the outer door opening. Given the hour and his range of acquaintances, there was really only one person it could be, and Fenris sighed to himself; the day had been peaceful, pleasant, and he'd found himself relaxing for the first time in quite a while, but Anders had a knack for riling him up. Trying to will away the tension he could already feel gathering in his shoulders, Fenris made himself turn another page and resume his petting of Ser Purrceval. With luck, the mage would satisfy himself with the other cats and not come so far as Fenris's chamber.

Luck did not smile upon Fenris, though, as Anders could be heard ascending the stairs, cooing ( _cooing_ ) to the cats as he did, too quietly for Fenris to be able to make out the words. Only when he'd reached the top could Fenris understand him. "Who's a pretty kitty? You're a pretty kitty! Let's see those ears, pretty kitty. Ohhh, yes, you like that. Such pretty purries. Where's Ser Purrceval, hmm? Here, Ser Purrceval! Here, kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty!"

Fenris strangled a groan through great force of will and rested his head in his palm as he looked down at Ser Purrceval, who, though he looked in the direction of Anders's voice, seemed disinclined to move from his spot. "Run while you can, cat," he murmured, but it was already too late; Anders appeared in the door, gaze sweeping the room eagerly. "Can't an elf have some privacy?" he grumbled, fingers curling against Ser Purrceval's tummy. "You could always try knocking, at the very least."

"Why bother? It's hardly as though you would let me in if I did." Anders lingered in the doorway as his eyes settled on Fenris. "Not dancing tonight, I see?"

Fenris grimaced and flicked his eyes away from Anders's, willing the heat he felt in his cheeks away. "I hadn't realized you'd heard that." He met Anders's gaze again, narrowing his eyes slightly. "Is there any chance that you might forget it?"

"None," Anders replied cheerfully. "Especially not giv-- _there_ you are, Ser Purrceval! Is that naughty elf hiding you from me?"

"Anders," Fenris began, but it was too late; Anders had already crossed the short space between them and bent entirely too far into Fenris's personal space, reaching to curl his fingers around Ser Purrceval's jaw and scritch furiously. His knuckles brushed Fenris's belly as they moved, separated from his skin only by a thin tunic (a hand-me-down of Hawke's that nearly swallowed him), and Fenris sucked in a sharp breath, white noise beginning between his ears. " _Anders_ ," he said again, high and tight.

Anders glanced up at him, fingers slowing as he studied Fenris's expression. He hesitated and, for one moment, Fenris was certain he'd taken his name for the warning it was, but then Anders twisted his wrist and began to scratch again, fingertips this time firm against Fenris's belly, stroking in slow, soothing circles.

Despite himself, Fenris found his lids drooping, the muscles of his abdomen twitching under the unfamiliar touch. He exhaled heavily, an uneven stutter of breath that seemed to pull from every fiber of his being until all that was left was the heat of Anders's fingers, anchoring him when it seemed that he might otherwise blow to dust. Dimly, he became aware that Anders was speaking (no, _cooing_ again), but the words were meaningless strings of syllables, only the soft, heady tone of them penetrating, until--

"Ow!"

Startled, Fenris jerked, nearly overturning the chair as he pulled away from Anders to struggle to his feet. Jarred by the sudden change of position, Ser Purrceval clung to Fenris's thighs until gravity dragged him away, his claws catching and pulling leggings and skin both as he fell to the floor. Fenris and Ser Purrceval both hissed, Fenris hastily doubling over as his hands flew reflexively to protect his groin while Ser Purrceval flattened his ears and scuttled under the bed. "What was that about?" Fenris growled, glaring at Anders through the fall of his bangs.

"Sorry," Anders said, absently rubbing the back of one of his hands, "he bit me. I didn't mean to scare you. Here, let me see." He reached for Fenris's leg, only to have his hands slapped away.

"Don't touch me." Fenris redoubled his glare as he slowly straightened, hands falling away from his groin to fist at his sides. "They're just scratches, I'm fine. Don't _touch_ me."

"Fenris," Anders said slowly, "cat scratches require attention. You don't want them to get infected, do you? It'd be a shame to have to chop your legs off because you were too stubborn to give me a minute to look at them."

Fenris narrowed his eyes suspiciously, then glowered. " _Fine_. Turn around."

Anders couldn't help the faint grin as he presented Fenris with his back. "Leggings off," he clarified, "then sit on the bed. Don't worry; you don't have anything I haven't seen before."

"I highly doubt that," Fenris grumbled, but obligingly stripped his leggings and perched on the edge of the bed, arms crossed over his lap. "You can turn around again."

"Elf, human, we've all got the same bits," Anders teased as he turned, only to pause as he caught sight of Fenris's bared legs. Angry red scratches marked his thighs, blood beading in a few places, but it was the graceful curls of lyrium that captured Anders's attention. They swirled and spiked along Fenris's sleek muscles, from what Anders could see of his thighs down to his feet; even his long toes weren't unmarked.

"Up _here_ , mage." Fenris's fingers curled, blunt nails scratching lightly over his skin. "If you're done ogling, I'd like to get this over with."

"I didn't imagine they'd look like this." Anders absently touched a whorl at Fenris's knee, glancing up when Fenris sucked in a breath.

Fenris's eyes narrowed as he stared at the fingers Anders still had resting against his skin. "Do you fantasize about my markings often, then? Perhaps, imagining what you could do with them? You _are_ a mage, after all."

"Not all mages are power-mad," Anders began, then shook his head. "Don't bait me. The sooner you let me heal these, the sooner I'll leave."

"Promises, promises," Fenris snapped, but he did subside, turning his head to a side as Anders knelt between his knees and studied the scratches. When Anders made no further move, he glanced at him from the corners of his eyes. "What is it?"

Anders started, tawny gaze flickering guiltily to Fenris's. "I didn't fantasize about your markings, you know. I can... appreciate how they must have hurt. The Joining was... not pleasant, but at least that was quick."

Fenris narrowed his eyes, but didn't pursue the topic. "Am I going to keep my legs?" he said instead. "I've grown rather attached to them."

Anders laughed once, sharply, before strangling his amusement. "I hope that wasn't a joke," he said, laughing again when Fenris gave him a bland look that told him nothing. "Fine." He peered at Fenris's scratches, hands curling at Fenris's thighs to hold him steady for the perusal. "I think you'll live," he declared at last, "but we need to get these cleaned. Do you have any fresh water? Soap? Salve would be good, too; I neglected to bring any."

Fenris gestured with his chin towards the fireplace. "All of it should be over there." He shivered slightly when Anders's hands slid from his skin, ruthlessly strangling the sound of complaint that tried to rise in his throat as Anders rose from between his knees and crossed the room.

The mage was still busy gathering the items when something warm and furry wound around Fenris's ankle. He glanced down to find Ser Purrceval staring up at him, meowing plaintively when he met Fenris's eyes. He arched against Fenris's leg, meowed again, then hopped lightly onto the bed to settle against Fenris's hip.

"I should be mad at you, cat," Fenris said lowly, even as his fingers found Ser Purrceval's ear and began to scratch, "but I can't blame you for defending yourself. Just don't let it happen again."

"I knew you didn't hate them." Anders had returned without Fenris's notice, the things Fenris used for his ablutions in-hand. "You're all show." He grinned when Fenris glowered at him, then settled between Fenris's legs again. "Now, this may sting."

Fenris closed his eyes as Anders rubbed the soapy cloth over his broken skin. It stung, yes, but what was foremost on his mind was how little he wanted Anders to stop. It had been some time since he'd last permitted anyone to touch him, since anyone had touched him without wishing to cause him pain. That it was Anders was... confusing, if not a bit alarming, and Fenris struggled to come to grips with the fact that he was not prepared to lose even that small bit of contact.

Anders seemed unaware of Fenris's quandary, rinsing the soap from Fenris's skin and twisting open the jar of salve he'd recovered with the rest. Scooping out a generous portion, he smeared it over the scratches, smoothing it into Fenris's skin with a light, practiced touch. That done, he sat back on his heels as though to admire his handiwork, absently wiping his hands on Fenris's washing cloth. "That should do," he said. "Just keep them clean and you should be fine."

"Thank you," Fenris said quietly, gaze turned from Anders to instead watch his fingers as they continued to card through Ser Purrceval's fur. "Even though they were your fault," he added after a moment.

"My fault?" Anders raised an eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest as he regarded the elf. "How was it my fault?"

Fenris scowled. "If you hadn't been touching me, I wouldn't have... You had no right to..."

"No right to what?" Anders leaned closer, hands finding Fenris's knees and pressing them farther apart. "Touch you? Make you enjoy it? Make you want me to do it again?"

"Yes," Fenris ground out, his hand sliding from Ser Purrceval to instead join the other, folding again over his lap. "I don't want anything to do with you. The only reason I haven't killed you yet is because Hawke would be put out."

"I don't believe you." Anders leaned closer yet, abdomen pressing against Fenris's arms, his face close enough to Fenris's that his breath warmed his cheek. "I think you like me well enough right now."

"Anders," Fenris began, but the warning in his tone was for naught; barely had he gotten the name out before Anders was kissing him. He froze, tense and unyielding, until a low chuckle Anders breathed against his lips lifted his hackles. Growling faintly, he fisted both hands at Anders's collar, dragging the mage hard against his body as he bit at Anders's mouth until Anders groaned softly and opened his mouth to Fenris's invasion.

They kissed for endless moments, neither gentle about it as they fought for dominance, struggling to overcome each other. It wasn't until what little air they managed was no longer enough that they broke apart, breathing heavily as Fenris glared at Anders's amused expression.

"I hate everything you are, mage," Fenris growled, his fingers clenching and unclenching around Anders's collar. "You madden me."

Anders grinned as he lifted a hand to skim his fingers over Fenris's lower lip, chuckling when Fenris sucked in a sharp breath. "You don't have to like me," he said. "I'm just using you for the cats."

Fenris's eyes narrowed, but he didn't argue the point. Instead, he dropped his mouth to the sensitive skin below Anders's jaw where his pulse beat rapidly, laving it with his tongue before sucking hard enough to raise a mark. He added a nip for good measure, then sat back with a satisfied look. "I'd like to see a cat do _that_."

Anders blinked, then laughed ( _laughed_!). "Are you jealous, Fenris?" His hands found the outside of Fenris's knees, running up his thighs, then back down, nails lightly teasing his skin. "It's cute."

Fenris glowered, but was cut off before he could argue by Anders surging to meet his mouth again. He crumpled under the onslaught, collapsing back onto the bed, and could feel Anders following him, hands leaving his knees to brace against the mattress at his sides, and--

"Ow!"

Fenris opened eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed, frowning at Anders, but the mage's attention was turned toward a grey blur disappearing over the edge of the bed. "I begin to think you're doing this deliberately."

"I didn't mean to squash him," Anders replied defensively, then hung his head. "Poor Ser Purrceval must be feeling neglected. I should--"

"Finish that sentence as I expect, Anders," Fenris growled, "and you can believe that there will never be another opportunity like this one." He flexed his thighs against Anders's sides, fingers twisting in the blanket beneath him. "I am feeling generous right now. Do not expect it to last."

Anders stared down at him for a long moment before his mouth twitched, but he wisely refrained from loosing the laughter that lurked in his eyes as he instead bent to nose under Fenris's jaw. "I promise not to hold my breath," he teased, and then words didn't matter as he nuzzled the slender column of Fenris's throat, hands ranging up Fenris's side as he rucked up the oversized tunic he wore. This time, Fenris made no move to shield himself, instead tilting his head back and twisting the fingers of one hand in Anders's hair, pulling strands loose from his ponytail to tickle over his face. Anders made a noise of complaint and Fenris chuckled softly in reply, the low sound vibrating pleasantly against Anders's lips.

"You have me at a disadvantage," Fenris said as his other hand fisted around Anders's collar, shaking him slightly. He used the leverage to push Anders back, narrowing his eyes in challenge. "I suggest removing anything you do not want damaged."

"Fenris," Anders began, but further words dried up as Fenris smiled, a sharp expression that had instilled a sense of doom in braver men than he. He froze for a long moment, until Fenris prodded him with a foot, and then hurried to free himself from his garments. The catch of the chain binding his short jacket eluded him until he paused, caught his breath, and refocused on the task at hand rather than the sight of Fenris smoldering before him. Finally, he managed to shrug free of it, dropping it in a pile of fabric and feathers that was quickly forgotten as his fingers hurried instead to the bindings of the long, sleeveless coat he still wore. They proved less resistant and soon he was left in the tatty shirt and trousers that he wore beneath it all.

"That's enough," Fenris said abruptly, catching the front of Anders's shirt and pulling hard, dragging the mage over him. "You're too slow." His lips curved again, a faint impression of amusement. "I did warn you." He angled up, slowly enough for Anders to resist, and breathed softly over the mage's lips before following with his own.

The kiss was unlike its predecessors in every way. Where before they were challenging, almost angry, now it was playful, advancing and retreating, chasing back and forth as heat built steadily between them. Anders pulled away after many long, breathless moments, only enough to curl his hands at Fenris's hips and shift them further onto the bed, the better to stretch over the elf's slighter frame. Their mouths met again as Anders's weight pressed Fenris into the thin mattress, one hand working between them to quest beneath the tunic Fenris still wore to stroke over bare skin.

Fenris's hands found Anders's hair again, finally succeeding in freeing it entirely from its short ponytail and carding through it, much as he had pet Ser Purrceval earlier, before sliding lower to find the bottom of Anders's shirt and slip beneath it. He lifted his hips against Anders as his fingers squeezed Anders's ass, unable to help the low growl that purled from his throat as his burgeoning erection rubbed against the rough fabric of Anders's clothes. He could feel a rising hardness against him, as well, and rubbed shamelessly against it until Anders broke from his mouth to muffle a groan against his throat.

"You are a menace," Anders murmured, lips catching against Fenris's skin as he spoke. His hands found Fenris's hips, then slid lower to catch under his thighs, pulling them up and apart until he could settle into the cradle of Fenris's pelvis, aligning their stiffening cocks and thrusting once, slowly as though in experimentation. When Fenris's eyelids fluttered, he did it again, then again, until the constriction of his trousers against the fullness of his erection was too much. He fumbled with the bindings, exhaling heavily when he succeeded in freeing them, only to catch his breath when Fenris's fingers flexed against his ass again, catching the worn fabric and pulling it down to Anders's thighs.

The first touch of skin on skin was almost too much, too fast. Fenris bit his lip, focusing on the small pain to keep from arching against Anders until the immediate urge faded enough for him to draw an uneven breath and gather his scattered senses. Anders's cock was a heavy line against him, so hot that Fenris imagined it was branding him, searing a mark into his flesh as unquestionable as the lyrium beneath his skin. The thought was alarming and Fenris shoved it away, instead fisting his hands in Anders's hair and jerking him back to his mouth for another devouring kiss.

Fenris lost track of time after that, sinking into the slide of Anders's mouth against his, the hitching thrusts of Anders's hips that dragged their cocks together in fits and starts. His hands found Anders's shoulders, fingers threatening to tear the thin fabric of his shirt as they clenched around it, clinging as though Anders were the only thing keeping him from sliding off the bed and through the floor. He clumsily matched Anders's movements, steadying when Anders slid a hand between them and closed it around their twinned shafts. His palm was dry, rough, and Fenris nearly crawled out of his skin as it began to stroke in a long slide from root to tip, twisting _perfectly_ on the upstroke.

"Anders," he tore away to groan, turning his head to a side as though it were possible to distance himself from Anders despite their tangle. He clenched his eyes shut as he caught his breath, fingers shaking as they flexed now, and then Anders twisted his palm over the tip of their cocks, sliding in the fluid gathering there and Fenris's breath escaped with a heartfelt moan. " _Anders_ ," he said again, prying his eyes open to find--

Ser Purrceval stared unblinking at Fenris from the end of the bed, his gold eyes lidded and his gaze implacable. His tail twitched, the only movement in his entire body, until, as Fenris stared, he opened his mouth in an enormous yawn, tongue curling between sharp, white teeth.

"Anders," Fenris said yet again, releasing Anders's shirt to instead grip his shoulders, jostling him. "Anders, the cat."

"Mm," Anders said against Fenris's collarbone, teeth ghosting over the line of it as he renewed his grip on their cocks, their combined fluid slicking his fingers now. "I'll thank him later."

"No, Anders." Fenris ducked his head, squirming in a vain attempt to escape mouth and hand both as he levered his hands against Anders's shoulders. "He's _watching_. He's--" Fenris gasped when Anders began to jack them in earnest, his legs winding around Anders before he could suppress the urge. He arched helplessly, fingers digging into the muscle of Anders's shoulders as he struggled with himself. "I can't," he began again, but it was already too late; pleasure seized him, tightening seemingly every inch of his body before exploding from him in a rush that left him drained and weak, clutching at Anders's shoulders to anchor himself.

Above him, Anders grunted softly. "Just a little--" He moved his hand to Fenris's side, shifting to rut shamelessly against the hard planes of Fenris's abdomen until, with a tiny whine that Fenris would never admit he found almost endearing, he came, hips juttering against Fenris. As the mage slowly stilled, Fenris gave him a short moment to bask, then ungently shoved Anders off of him.

"I can't believe I," he began, only to trail off as he narrowed his eyes at Anders. "I don't appreciate audiences."

"Audiences?" Anders blinked, pushing loose strands of hair from his face as he considered Fenris. "You don't mean _Ser Purrceval_ , do you? Fenris, he's a cat."

Fenris's shoulders stiffened as he pulled his soiled tunic over his head, wiping away the semen drying on his skin. Only when he was satisfied he'd cleaned himself as best he could with the available resources did he look at Anders again. "It wasn't you he was staring at," Fenris grumbled, then threw his tunic at Anders's head when the mage had the gall to laugh. "I fail to see the humor!"

"Fenris," Anders said, grinning as he wiped himself down with the tunic, "he's a _cat_. He doesn't care who you fuck." He leaned over quickly, stealing a brief kiss before Fenris could twitch away. "I promise."

Fenris growled under his breath, prodding Anders with a foot. "You're useless. Get out, I'm tired of you." Drawing his legs under himself, he presented Anders with his back. "Don't come back."

Anders had the gall to laugh again, and even more to rest a hand on Fenris's shoulder and close his mouth at the back of Fenris's neck, sucking a mark into life before Fenris jerked away and clapped a hand over the spot, twisting to stare at Anders with wide eyes. "I'll show myself out," Anders said brightly as he straightened his clothes and bent to retrieve their discarded mates. "Don't stir yourself on my account."

" _Get out_ ," Fenris snarled, but he could tell there was little of the customary heat in it; no doubt Anders could, as well, judging by the mage's grin. He glared until Anders was out the door, told himself he imagined the mage's chuckles as Fenris heard him descend the stairs. He was going to regret this, he was sure; he just didn't know how much or when just yet.

Finding Fenris's lack of attention an opening, Ser Purrceval hopped from the end of the bed into Fenris's lap, ignoring his half-hearted attempts to displace him. He mrred at Fenris's frown, briefly licked a paw, then turned himself into a comfortable ball with no intention of moving. Looking down at him, Fenris sighed and conceded; it was not his night for victories, not even over a glorified furball. Slowly, he worked his legs out straight again with only a minor complaint from Ser Purrceval, just as stealthily squirming until he could pull the blanket from beneath himself to tuck it over his legs instead.

"You owe me, cat," he said as he scratched lightly below Ser Purrceval's ear. He wasn't entirely sure what Ser Purrceval owed him _for_ , but he felt better for having said it. He'd work it out-- he'd work _everything_ out in the morning. For the moment, his thighs ached, he needed a bath in the best possible way, and life could definitely be worse.


End file.
